"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
       - Emily Dickinson

I'm sitting here waiting for just a word
I'm sitting here praying a single word
I'm sitting here hoping that hope isn't gone
I'm sitting here thinking of all that I've heard
I'm sitting here tearing my mind into pieces

I'm sitting here begging for just a single word
I'm sitting here ripping my heart into pieces
So I can sit here with you and give you my heart
Every single piece to hold you in your arms

I'm sitting here starting at his starry face
I'm sitting here wishing I could be angry and hate
I'm sitting here begging that my life will come back
My sweet love who is gone and may never return
But I take heart and I rip it in two
Even if it takes years, I'll still be waiting for you.